Here are the years that walk between
by Heero de Fanel
Summary: Post Independent path, SPOILERS. Elwin and Liana finally meet again (and whenever he dreamed, he had dreamed of her).


**Here are the years that walk between**

_"Will the veiled sister pray for  
Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,  
Those who are torn on the horn between season and season,  
time and time, between  
Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait  
In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray  
For children at the gate  
Who will not go away and cannot pray:  
Pray for those who chose and oppose_

_O my people, what have I done unto thee."_

* * *

This is the story of a continent called El Sallia.

For years (decades, centuries) it was a land that had been torn asunder time and again by the horrors of war; brutal conflicts that pitted human against human, human against demon, demon against demon. Though there were periods of fleeting peace where the weapons were laid to rest and no blood was drawn, they were inevitably shattered by the beginning of a new call to battle, another murderous crusade in the name of 'justice'. The cycle continued on and on with no end in sight, a testament to the innate natures of both human and demons alike…

Until one day, a red-haired man appeared.

Many a monarch had come to power under the ashes of the kingdoms that had fallen beneath their heels, and this one was no exception. With his trusted comrades beside him and wielding blades out of legend, the man who would be king mercilessly crushed both Kalxath and the Rayguard Empire enroute to realizing his grand ambitions, and by the time he ascended the throne, those under his dominion watched and waited with fearful eyes.

He had come bearing a golden dream of peace, _true_ peace, but they all still wondered. How could they not?

How could this one swordsman - a monster that had fought dozens and dozens of battles to the death and come out the victor - possibly bring about what he had promised?

They fell silent when he raised money for the orphanages tasked with raising the children of war, or when he decisively put down rebellions only after diplomacy had failed. Contrary to the shaky whispers that he wasn't so much a man as he was death taken form, he proved to be a wise king, a good king, a king that strove mightily to preserve the peace that he had brought because his subjects knew – somehow, they knew – that he, just like them, had suffered greatly for it.

Time slowly passed, and those that were born into the peaceful era grew up knowing nothing of the bloody stories that preceded their esteemed ruler. Instead, they were told how he fought time and again to defend their borders from those that would seek to do them harm, or that he had somehow convinced human hands and demonic claws to touch with warmth and reconciliation instead of hatred and violence, or that he was descended from an ancient bloodline long lost to the paths of history.

They understood that he was somehow everything he had promised to be all those years ago and more, and they loved him for it.

Alas, even the king of legend was mortal, and before his time came he made sure to appoint a council comprised of loyal, like-minded people to rule in his stead in an attempt to ensure that what he had brought forth lasted as long as it possibly could; he had borne no heir, you see, and he had no desire to see a power struggle launch another terrible war. These men and women were steadfast and believed in their king's ideals like no others, and he knew his people were in the best possible hands.

The myth told and retold by scriveners had it that the King of Peace passed away in his sleep, surrounded by his mourning advisors with a satisfied smile on his face at all he had accomplished; the reality was that the King of Peace passed away in his sleep, alone, with a look of quiet reflection upon his countenance… as if he were thankful his story had come to an end at long last.

* * *

He stirs.

After a moment or two, Elwin's eyes blearily open to blue skies above and the sun shining brightly overhead, but he knows that can't be the case. After all, he was just idly reading in his bed when he had drifted off, so how…?

He pushes himself up from the soft ground – gingerly at first, because his old bones and aged limbs aren't even close to what they used to be, despite his best efforts at staving off time – only to stop halfway when he realizes that he feels strength and vitality that he hadn't felt in years.

A hasty look at his hands reveals smooth, unblemished skin, and his gaze flies from the field he was lying in to a nearby grove of trees, before turning to the distant horizon where lay what looked like... Castle Baldea?

In a flash of comprehension, he understands.

"… Oh. So, that's it."

* * *

Perhaps it was old habits ingrained in him from Doren coming to the forefront, but Elwin spends the first few minutes of his (death, rebirth, afterlife, whatever) testing the limits of his body as best he can, trying to get used to being in his physical prime again by running exercises that his master had shown him during far simpler days.

By the end, his legs and arms are heavy and his lungs are burning for air, but curiously enough his fingers never once ache to wrap themselves around a sword hilt the way they once had; no more does his blood burn at the prospect of clashing blades.

It's only his body that's young. His heart, mind and soul, on the other hand… these things are far, far older.

* * *

It appears as though he has a decision to make.

In one direction lies the road to the far off castle, surrounded on all sides by fields of everlasting green, and even from his vantage point he can see that it's no longer in the state of disrepair it had been in when he had first taken hold of Langrisser. Its banners wave the kingdom's crest proudly under the brilliance of the sun, and if he strains his ears and truly listens, he can faintly hear the sounds of laughter and music ringing out; different dialects of the language called joy.

Elwin runs his fingers through his dark red mane, and he distantly remembers what her hair had looked like when that same radiant light had shone upon it.

He doesn't bother looking back when he sets his jaw and starts walking, once again a wanderer with no destination. Whatever lies at the end of the idyllic path is sacred and beautiful, and therefore not meant for the likes of him.

Elwin pauses for the briefest of moments, and if he were the kind of person to dwell on what-ifs, this would have been the time to wonder what he might have done instead, if he could have indeed been worthy of the paradise that he had rejected so long ago and continues to reject now.

But he's not, so he doesn't.

He continues walking instead, each measured step taking him farther away from the bright green and brilliant (painful) gold, because this is far more than what he deserves already; he's not about to press his luck.

* * *

He stops for 'rest' on occasion, even though he's not remotely tired.

Sometimes he sits quietly and simply surveys his surroundings, which never seem to stay constant; he can be walking in a forest with a river by his side one moment before exiting to the loose gravel of a mountainous path the next.

He never recognizes any specific bit of terrain, not really, but there's a sense of familiarity to everything that haunts every stolen glance.

Not once does he lay eyes upon another human being, and after a while he comes to the conclusion that he may never will.

Eternal solitude mixed with endless expanses of unsojourned, virgin land to explore – heaven and hell all at once. Cherie might have called it ironic. Lester or Keith might have too.

He stands and starts walking again, scattering the memories into dust with every step (because even now, their names still taste like ash in his mouth).

* * *

He's not sure how much time has passed – days or months surely, though even without keeping track years still seem out of the question – but there comes a moment in the monotony where his long dormant but still keen instincts roar to life for the first time in forever, screaming that he's not alone.

Elwin leaps to his feet, his gaze turning to steel as he stares at the approaching figure making its way through the dense foliage that guards the clearing he's in.

He waits, tensed and coiled.

Just a few more seconds, and –

" – So this is where you've been. Stubborn as always, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

He draws in a sharp breath as his world comes to a stop, every fiber of his being going still.

She looks exactly as she did when he saw her last, still clad in the colors of her order with clothing that's cut more for everyday comfort than for pomp or circumstance. Every movement is elegant and precise; she is, as always, full of grace.

Her gaze meets his, and she smiles warmly even as he fights back a shiver, twin waves of gold spilling down her back.

"Elwin."

Still so beautiful, still forever young, so much so that it almost _hurts_.

"… Liana."

* * *

His mouth moves with nothing coming out, a dying man struggling for his final gasp.

"Y-You – aren't you – "

Liana's eyes crinkle in gentle amusement, the corners of her mouth turning up in a tiny smile. "I am. So are you, in the event you were still curious."

"Yeah. I gathered that."

Words are still struggling to fight to the surface, with none managing to succeed because none seem remotely adequate.

What do you say to a ghost the second time around, exactly?

"What are you doing here?" he finally settles on, studying the way her fingers played with the fabric of her skirt (she only ever does that when she's nervous, he remembers).

She doesn't answer for a beat or two, the silence heavy without being oppressive.

Age has granted him patience. He waits.

"Would you believe I've come to take you home?" Liana says at last, watching him all the while.

Home? You mean Baldea?

He's not even aware that he spoke aloud before he sees her eyes widening in surprise.

"Baldea. So, that's what it looks like for you."

"Is it not the same for everyone?" he asks, his curiosity overcoming his confusion.

"No. For me it was the temple I was raised in, and I imagine that it's something along the same lines for all others that pass on. For it to be Baldea… it must have left quite an impression."

"You might say that," Elwin answers her vaguely, his eyes going distant as a memory from that fateful battle rises in his mind's eye – the memory of a fellow warrior, his hair as red as Elwin's own and his sword arm equally as determined.

His name was Ledin. It was his blood that flowed through Elwin's veins, it was his blade that had met the blows from Langrisser, and it was his words that echoed through Elwin's ears even as his decisive, fatal strike landed.

"_I understand your power… Perhaps you…"_

The shade had vanished from existence then, but the weight of his final gaze remained. It was not meant to scorn or belittle Elwin for betraying his bloodline, but instead to spur him on, to believe in him, to believe that the power of humanity could triumph over the supreme will of the divine.

They both treasured the same ideal, even if they had taken vastly different paths towards it. Elwin had respected that fiercely, and his ancestor had accorded him that same respect in return. He would see his dream through to the end, just as Ledin had seen his own.

"… Elwin. Will you…?"

Her voice holds so much hope, and his heart aches both for her and for himself when he shakes his head once, firm and quick.

"You know I can't."

Liana's lips thin, her own determined streak coming to the fore. "Can't or won't?"

"Does it matter?"

"You know it does."

"Fine. Both, then."

She bites her lip, frustrated. "Why?"

"Because – "

Because he betrayed and killed countless people to get to where he was, his friends and comrades included.

Because he made the decision to sacrifice everything he had so that those that came after had the chance to live in a peaceful world… a world that would have no need for a wretch like him to be its savior.

Because he had been the one to take the light from her eyes forever, and nothing _– nothing – _he had accomplished in his long life had ever managed to burn brightly enough to cleanse him of that sin.

Because. Because. Because.

Once again, he tastes nothing but ash.

When his words cut off with a strangled gasp and he sinks to his knees, his burden finally becoming too much to carry, she understands.

She always had, even at the end.

"… Elwin."

Her arms reach out, and he pulls away; the moth to her flame.

"I killed you."

Undeterred, she reaches out again to cup the sides of his face with both of her hands without uttering a sound, tugging him down to rest his forehead against hers with a tenderness that breaks his heart.

"I killed you. I killed so many. I killed everyone," he whispers, trembling in a way that he had never permitted himself to do while he was still alive. "Liana, you have to understand, after everything that went on, I – I can't – "

"Can't what?" she asks, her gentle voice holding no trace of judgment or condemnation.

Maybe in the end, this was his final punishment; meant to be administered by him and him alone, just like all the others had been. Practice bred proficiency, and self-flagellation was no exception.

"I can't go to where you are. I won't go to where you are. Someone like me… there's no place there for someone like me."

Her gaze is steady.

"… Because of what you did?"

He laughs then, the sound broken beyond repair.

"No. Because I would do it all again in a heartbeat."

A boy who had grown up amidst the flames of war had become a man willing to wage a war to end all wars. He would free the continent from the yoke it was being held under so that the children of the future - both human and demon - would know true peace in their lifetime; so that there would be a generation that understood how valuable it was because their parents and guardians had lived to tell them so. Redemption demanded repentance, and that was something Elwin simply didn't have to give.

The fall of two kingdoms. The soul of a king. If such was the price for fleeting peace, then he was willing to pay it a hundred times over because standing by and simply accepting things as they were was a far, far greater sin.

(He never could stand inaction, and all heroes need their tragic flaws).

She stays quiet in the face of his first and final confession. It's the only kindness he will accept.

"I knew – " his voice falters again, his words choking him as his throat tries to close. "I knew that there was no turning back the moment I made my choice. It had to end, even if only for my lifetime. It _had_ to. I can't apologize for that."

He doesn't elaborate. There's no need.

The sorrow, the suffering, all of the senseless death.

The chess game between two deities that never once blinked at the losses their eternal conflict caused.

The thrall of Chaos, relentlessly driving the demons to rend and tear, turning them against a race that could have walked alongside them the whole time.

The hypocrisy of Lushiris, who professed to love all those under Her dominion while turning a blind eye to the racism and murder that served the so-called greater good, the suffering of Her scattered children an acceptable sacrifice in Her grand design.

_O my people, what have I done unto thee._

His fists clench, and he hopes that whatever realm the Goddess had scurried back to after the destruction of her physical form, she remembers how when all was said and done, Langrisser's power had ultimately sided with humanity. With the unlimited potential that came with free will.

He hopes she remembers, and that she chokes every time she does.

Liana says nothing.

Again, he waits.

* * *

"… I wanted to hate you, you know. I tried so hard."

Elwin looks at her, and she's not sure whether the expression of surprise comes from her blunt admission or the unspoken sentiment that she had failed miserably.

"You probably should have tried a little harder," and a twisting sensation in her gut tells her that's probably the closest he's come to making a joke in decades. "It might have kept you alive."

Her hands trace their way across his handsome face, going from his cheekbones to his eyelids to the shock of red hair that had never failed to draw attention during their travels, and she remembers.

"It wouldn't have," Liana finally says with a small sigh, shaking her head as she recalls the cruel, ruthless mask he had worn more and more often as the fighting had gone on. "I couldn't bring myself to hate you the way you wanted us to hate you. Not back then, and certainly not now. I don't."

"Liana – "

"I don't, Elwin," she repeats firmly, the steel that had always lain under her soft exterior coming to the fore. "How could I?"

She continues before he can interrupt, her eyes never once leaving his. "You kept your promise. You brought peace to El Sallia, light to where there had only been darkness. You took the suffering of the people on your shoulders, and bore that burden gladly so that they would grow up in a world better than the one we did."

Silence.

"Elwin, you - you gave them _hope_, don't you see?"

After what seems like forever, he nods once, his expression unreadable.

"Then why are you – "

"Because I said years ago that the burden for bringing upon a new world was to be borne by me and me alone," he answers, sounding as tired as she had ever heard him. "I meant that with all my heart. So I became the most reviled murderer that El Sallia had ever seen until finally, there was no one left to stand against me. And then suddenly, I was the King of Peace."

His lips quirk up in a sardonic grin at that.

"A swordsman makes the decision to swing their sword, and no one else. It doesn't matter if we're fighting for ideology, for what we think is justice, or simply to defend the person next to us… ultimately, we make the decision to kill someone. At the end of the day, no matter why we fought, our sins are our own, and we have a responsibility to carry them as such, without the excuse of a grand ideal or greater good.

He says these words with the lion back in his voice, the determination wrought in steel, and now more than ever she can see that the weight of the years had done nothing to diminish the core of the man.

Her lips curve up in a small, regretful smile. He doesn't miss it.

"L-Liana…?"

"This is why it could have only been you, Elwin," she whispers, her eyes mournful. "The burden you speak of… it couldn't have been carried by any other, not even Kalxath or Rayguard. I tried to carry mine, too. I couldn't."

He's confused now, grasping her hands as they fall from his face. "I… I don't – "

"I thought I believed in the Jessica and the Goddess. I thought I believed in fulfilling the duty handed down to the Descendants of Light. And yet when the time finally came to meet you on the battlefield, to show my belief once and for all, to prove that we were just and you were not… I ran."

Elwin shakes his head, his breathing going shallow. "No, but you – you didn't run, I wish with every fiber of my being that you _had_, but – "

"That's not what I mean."

"… What?"

Her smile turns somber. "Elwin. Do you think it was an accident that I didn't recognize you then? Or did you assume that my trying to murder you was divine interference alone?

He goes absolutely still, and she swears she feels his skin turn cold.

"You talked about carrying our sins, Elwin. Well, I couldn't carry the sin of having to kill the man I loved. My sister might have had the will, if it had come to that," Liana murmurs, remembering the anguish that had swirled like a storm within her thanks to Bozel's machinations and her all-consuming desire to make things right, "but I wasn't strong enough. So…"

So she had desperately pleaded with Lushiris for Her favor, ignoring the pity and confusion in the eyes of Lana and Jessica, and in the middle of the endless starscape, her prayer was granted.

And thus she had marched off, more than willing to kill and more than willing to die; simply another piece in play for the last stand of the Goddess.

He's shaking his head, his lips parting soundlessly as he tries to say something – anything.

"Why?" he finally manages, his voice raw with torment. "You didn't have to – you could have just – I wasn't _worth – _"

He was wrong, though. That was the heart of the problem, wasn't it?

"I couldn't," she repeats again. "But you could, and you did. You gave everything, losing even what was most precious to you, no matter how much it hurt. El Sallia was a painful place, filled with grief and strife, but you believed that its inhabitants deserved the freedom to decide their own fate in spite of that. That's why I'm here, and that's why I'm not leaving this time, no matter what you say. You've been alone long enough, Elwin."

He neither speaks nor resists when she draws his hands up and presses her lips to his knuckles; the closest thing to benediction she has to offer to the man that sacrificed everything he cared for, all for the sake of people that would only ever know him as the flawless, perfect king.

She sees no need to talk about it anymore. The boy had saved the world, and the girl will save him.

This is neither her atonement nor her penance; this simply _is._

* * *

… Stubborn. Still so stubborn, even after all these decades.

"And I suppose even if I get up now and walk away without looking back…" he mutters, knowing full well how rhetorical the question is.

"Oh, I'd follow you. Though I don't think that surprises you any."

"I still don't understand 'why'."

"That's all right," she hums, low and soothing. "We have quite a bit of time, you know."

A colossal understatement, but one that coaxes a small laugh nonetheless. "That we do," he says, releasing her hands and letting his shaking fingers settle on her slim shoulders, the touch gentle.

He knows she's not made of glass, and he won't break her (not again, not this time) but it never hurts to be careful.

"… I didn't think I'd see you again, Liana," he confesses in a rush, because it's the truth and he's so, so tired of lying. "I wasn't sure if I had dreamed you that night, or hallucinated you, or…"

He bows his head when his words die on his tongue, daring to bury his nose in her golden locks, and her palms once again find the smooth skin of his cheeks.

"I never forgot. What you looked like, what you sounded like, your last message… never. Not once," he whispers desperately, as if she's about to disappear again, and whenever he dreamed, he had dreamed of her – always of her, only of her, forever of her.

"Liana – "

"I love you."

He stops, and something inside his weary soul is touched and reborn.

"I love you," she repeats, her eyes starting to glisten. "I-I loved you, I love you, and I _will_ love you."

He's shaking again. He can't help himself.

"I can say that now, can't I? I never got to, and now after all this time I can finally – "

He draws her close and kisses her before he can think about it; she's everything he remembers, soft and sweet and perfect when she sighs against his mouth.

(He knows he doesn't deserve this. Maybe that's the point).

Clumsily, "I-I love you," and she laughs and throws her arms around him, almost tackling him to the soft earth beneath them.

He can feel her tears on his neck.

"… Even now?"

One of her hands reaches down to cradle the side of his face, and he smiles against the warm skin, finally allowing himself to breathe.

"Forever, Liana."

She smiles back.

"Forever," she murmurs, brushing her lips against his forehead. "That doesn't sound bad at all."

No, it doesn't. Not anymore.

Funny, that.

* * *

He helps her stand up, his eyes catching sight of the beautiful castle in the distance once more, and when his gaze drops to his feet, she understands why.

It will be a long time coming before Elwin's wounded heart is finally healed. He's lived a hard, painful life, and he's not close to ready to see himself the way she – and El Sallia, at the end – saw him.

She supposes that was all right. The journey of a thousand miles always begins with a single step, or so the saying goes.

Her hands are held out with a quiet smile, and he looks lost even as his fingers wind through hers.

It's still cute.

"Liana?"

"That can wait. We still have a lot to talk about, you and I," she tells him with a laugh, pulling him along, and he doesn't resist in the slightest.

"Like what, exactly?"

"I want to hear about your kingdom, and if they were as happy as they looked from where we are. About your childhood, and what your master was like. If you think Leon ever looked at my sister in life the way he looks at her now."

The expression on his face at her last sentence tell her all she needs to know.

"When you're ready, Elwin. They'll be there. All of them."

He nods slowly, and though he looks nervous, he's not as stricken as she thinks he might have been.

Step by step.

"Shall we?"

* * *

"_Here are the years that walk between, bearing  
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring  
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing_

_White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.  
The new years walk, restoring  
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring  
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem  
The time. Redeem  
The unread vision in the higher dream  
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse."_

\- T.S. Eliot, Ash Wednesday

* * *

AN: Fifteen years.

Give or take a few weeks, it's been fifteen years since I've written anything specifically for Der Langrisser. A lot's happened since I wrote a bunch of stories in 2004 that make me wince today; I graduated both high school and post secondary. I went through a bunch of jobs before finding the ideal balance between work/life. I got to meet and collaborate with a ton of interesting, talented people. I lost friends that I thought would out-live the rest of us just because they loved life so damn much.

The kid that wanted to write this story to begin with got left in the rearview mirror a long time ago, to say the least. So it goes.

That said, I'd always carried a fondness for the series even after I stopped writing for it (along with Growlanser); it was a damn fine collection of SRPGs, after all. Admittedly I also really hadn't thought about it for a while... then Langrisser Mobile came out, I gave it a download, and as soon as I heard Knight's Errant I was 14 again.

This story was a long time in the making, because even back then I found Independent Elwin (and the route in general) absolutely fascinating to examine. For one thing, this had to do with the jarring tonal shifts the game brought with each scenario; it's about a 50/50 shot whether he sounds like a man with genuinely good intentions or a sociopath out to prove how strong he is. At first I was leaning toward the latter, but then I saw the animated conclusion to the Independent path via Dramatic Edition (available on YT), and the Elwin we see there is the Elwin we see for the rest of the story barring the Chaos path, with not a trace of bloodthirsty arrogance to be found even as he thinks he's alone. He doesn't need it anymore, you see.

There have been a few arguments that the original version of DL has no universally happy endings; the Light and Empire paths both generally push the human status quo, and the Chaos path simply flips the paradigm on its head. Only the Independent path really ends with the possibility of genuine unification between the two races, something truly better... and all it takes is Elwin throwing away virtually everything. I'm glad I didn't try to do anything with this idea back then, because I could never have done justice to it. Quite frankly I'm not sure if I did justice to it _now,_ but when inspiration strikes - well, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Thanks for reading to the end, if you did. I've missed these characters, I've missed this universe, and I've missed these games. Langrisser's a fantastic series, and I'm so happy that Mobile's giving it a well-executed revival! Now, if only Sega could do that for classic Phantasy Star...


End file.
